Over The Edge
by Tanith2011
Summary: When Jeannie is attacked by two seemingly innocent trick or treaters on the night of Halloween, Steve is assigned with a new partner to find the culprits, as Mike struggles to keep his emotions from boiling over.
1. Prologue

**_AN: Happy Halloween, everyone!_****  
**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own any of the original characters, locations or canon information depicted in the series "The Streets of San Francisco"_. _I'm just borrowing them for my pleasure and hopefully the enjoyment of others. _**

**_Special thanks goes to my SOSF beta for her talents in proof reading.  
_**

* * *

**Prologue**

_Residence of Mike Stone, October 31__st__, 1973_

The knocking on the door grew persistent. Jeannie Stone turned down the heat on the stove before she picked up a bowl of assorted candy bars and rushed out of the kitchen. She opened the front door with one hand, while holding the bowl in the other. A smile broke out across her face when she was met by two figures standing on the doorstep dressed up as Frankenstein and the Wolfman. "Aren't you two a little too old to be trick or treating?" Jeannie quipped, looking up at the two men. She held out the bowl of treats for them and grinned broadly.

A hand shot forward and pushed the young college student backward as the two men forced their way into the house. The bowl flew from her hand and fell to the floor. A gasp turned to a scream which was cut short by a hand covering her mouth. The front door slammed shut and Jeannie's eyes widened in horror as the man in the Frankenstein costume tore at her blouse.

Mortified, Jeannie struggled to free herself from the grappling hold the man had on her. She clawed at his face; her finger nails raking down his cheek and peeling away the green face paint from his skin. She tried to pull his hand away from her face and ripped his sleeve, revealing a tattoo on his forearm of a crow in a shield. She fell back onto the floor and stars exploded in her eyes as her head connected with something hard. Darkness closed in and consumed her.

The two men looked at one another, before Frankenstein unbuckled his belt and stepped closer to the prone girl.

"Hey, man, let's get out of here. She's bleeding!" the Wolfman said, nervously. He reached out and gripped his companion's arm.

"So? What did you think we were going to do here? Have a tea party? If you don't want to watch, keep your eye on that window. I don't want any interruptions from a bunch of brats, you got that?"

"Oh come on, Rick! I thought you were just kidding around. You're not seriously gonna…"

"Shut up, Evans and watch that window!"

At the sound of a car pulling up, both young men swore under their breaths. Headlights shone through the drawn curtains and a car door opened and shut.

"Let's go!" Zach Evans called out to his friend as he bounded down the hallway, searching for a back door.

Zipping up his jeans, Rick Morgen dashed after his accomplice.

* * *

Sliding the key into the lock, SFPD's Lieutenant Mike Stone unlocked the door to his home. "Something smells good! You know I could…." The words died on the detective's lips as his eyes roamed over the still body of his daughter lying on the floor with her blouse unbuttoned and blood trailing from her scalp. "Jeannie? Oh my God! Jeannie!" Mike dropped his keys to the floor and hurried to his daughter's side. He knelt beside her and checked for her pulse. His hands trembled as he mechanically checked for injuries. It didn't take long for him to locate the source of the blood flow from her head. Her light brown hair was matted from where she bled. Placing his handkerchief under her head to staunch the bleeding, Mike then shrugged out of his coat and draped it carefully over her body. He rose shakily to his feet and made his way to the telephone in the living room. "Operator, get me an ambulance….."


	2. ACT 1: Part 1

**ACT I: Part 1**

_General Hospital, October 31__st__, 1973_

The waiting room seemed to be shrinking in on itself for the seasoned Lieutenant. He ran his hand over his perspiring face and stood up then walked out into the corridor.

"Mike!" an all too familiar, yet comforting voice called out, followed by hurried footsteps leading toward the aging cop.

Mike turned to greet his partner but couldn't work up the energy to speak.

"Healy and Tanner are at your place with forensics. They've got patrol units out canvassing the area but the streets are crawling with kids trick or treating and they're not sure what to look for. Has Jeannie said anything? How is she?" Steve inquired, a little breathlessly.

"I don't know. She's still in the ER. She was unconscious when they brought her in," Mike began but a fiery pain travelled up his throat and became dislodged as he thought back on what the doctor outlined earlier.

"Mike, what is it?" Steve asked, his own voice becoming strained from the look of apprehension written all over his mentor's weathered face.

"They…they're examining her. The doctors suspect she may have been criminally assaulted. Oh God, my little girl! How…how could anyone…" Mike stammered, squeezing his eyes shut and covering them with a trembling hand as he felt the moisture behind them building.

Steve's cursing went unnoticed by the older man as he wheeled around and nervously ran his fingers through his wavy hair. He felt as though a fist had just been driven straight through his chest and could only imagine the anguish that Mike was feeling. He was as close to a father to him as one could get, and Jeannie meant the world to both of them. He knew that if Jeannie had been sexually assaulted, the emotional impact had the potential to tear their lives apart. There was no telling how long or if Jeannie would recover from such an ordeal and knowing Mike the way he knew him, Steve hoped he wouldn't do anything he would later regret. The last thought almost caused him to laugh sardonically, for he didn't know himself what he would do to the perpetrator who hurt Jeannie. Breathing out a heavy sigh, Steve turned back to face Mike but before he could say another word an interruption came in the form of Dr. Moore.

"Stone?" Dr. Moore called out from down the hall way.

Mike wiped his eyes vigorously then looked the physician squarely in the eye.

"You can relax now, both of you. Jeannie will be fine. She sustained a mild concussion and needed a few stitches for a gash to her head but other than being shaken up and sore, she's going to be alright, physically."

"Was she…," Mike began to ask the question he dreaded asking.

Dr. Moore shook his head and smiled reassuringly.

Mike felt compelled to pull the doctor into a hug but refrained and held out his hand instead to thank him.

"Of course we'll be keeping her for a couple of days for observation. I thought you might be interested in this. We found what looks like some residue from cosmetic paint under her nails. They must've got there when she struggled against her attacker." Dr. Moore drew out a small sealed plastic sleeve from his top pocket and handed it to the detective.

"Thanks, Doc. We'll take it to the lab as soon as I see my daughter," Mike said anxiously as he took the sample and after a brief glance, he gave it to his partner.

"She's just regained consciousness and is still pretty groggy but you can both see her for a few minutes," Dr. Moore replied before he led the two men down the corridor.

Mike smiled wanly then nudged his partner, motioning for him to follow the doctor.

Relief replaced the nervousness in Steve's gut as he walked down the corridor beside Mike toward Jeannie's room.

* * *

Jeannie threw her arms around her father's neck as he bent down over the bed and held her in a gentle embrace. "You have no idea how worried I've been. And Steve too!" Mike said in a voice thick with emotion.

"Well, you can both stop your worrying now. I just want to go home," Jeannie replied with a grimace.

"Oh no you don't. Doc wants to keep you in for a couple of days. Besides, you'll be safer here while Steve and I find whoever did this to you and get him off the streets!" Mike exclaimed passionately.

A dark cloud passed over Jeannie's face and she suddenly paled as she relieved the nightmare in her mind. "There were two of them, Mike."

"Sweetheart, can you describe them for me?" Mike asked tentatively as he sat on the edge of the bed while Steve pulled out his notebook.

"They were dressed in Halloween costumes. One of them was the Wolf Man. He was about your height," Jeannie inclined her head toward Steve then continued, "The other was maybe a little taller and he was dressed as Frankenstein."

"Do you remember if they said anything to you? Even if you can't remember the words, maybe they had an accent?" Steve asked.

"Um…I can't remember. It all happened so fast!" Jeannie's frustration to recall the details from her hazy memory showed as she brought her hand up and messaged her forehead.

Mike reached out and took her hand in his. "It's alright, Sweetheart. Just take your time. Tell you what, we can come back later when you've had some time to rest and gather your thoughts."

"I'm sorry. I wish I could be of more help."

"You have," Mike asserted then leaned forward and kissed Jeannie on the forehead, before giving her hand a light pat then releasing it and rose to his feet. As much as the cop part of him wished Jeannie could tell him more about the men who attacked her, his fatherly instincts told him not to push it.

"Take care, Jeannie. I'll swing by a little later, okay?" Steve said quietly as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze, allowing his fingers to linger by interlacing them with hers, momentarily. With a small smile she nodded then waited until the door swung shut behind the men, before closing her eyes and praying for a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Steve knew Mike too well to not notice his mentor was deeply affected by the attack on his daughter and by what could've transpired but thankfully didn't. Almost jogging to keep up with Mike's long and hurried strides, Steve grasped him by the shoulder and they came to a halt in the middle of the corridor. "Hey, slow down, will you? Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine. Come on, let's get that sample to the lab, then we'll hit the streets and…"

"And then, what?"

With a sigh of exasperation, Mike rounded on Steve, "What's the matter with you? Two men just attacked my Jeannie! What do you think I'm going to do? Sit around the office? I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to find them so they can't hurt someone else's daughter!"

"Mike, there could be dozens of kids wearing similar costumes on your street alone. We can't go around arresting all of them. Let's just get to the lab and then we'll go back to your place. Maybe the perps left behind some evidence that could lead us in the right direction. Look, I know you're rattled after what happened, but we need to step back and think things through."

Silence spread into minutes until finally Mike took a deep breath and broke the stillness, "Okay, you're right, Buddy Boy. I just can't help thinking that I could've stopped them, if only I walked through that door a few minutes earlier."

"Maybe it was because you got home when you did that Jeannie escaped the worst of what could've happened."

Swallowing, Mike could only nod before the two men walked in solemn silence toward the exit.


	3. ACT 1: Part 2

**_AN:_**_A big thank you to all my readers who read, reviewed or added my story to their favorites/alerts. I appreciate the support you've all given me. Apologies for the irregular updates - RL has been chewing away at my free time and I'd like to thank you for your patience :-)_

_Special thanks goes to my lovely beta for taking the time out of her busy RL to proof-read this.  
_

_Tanith 2011  
_

**ACT 1 – Part 2**

_Residence of Lieutenant Mike Stone, October 31__st__, 1973_

It was well after midnight by the time the forensics crew left Mike's home, leaving the Lieutenant and his partner to themselves.

"You look beat. Why don't you get some shut eye and I'll swing by first thing in the morning. There's nothing more we can do here, Mike. Very little was disturbed which confirms the fact that whoever forced their way in didn't get a chance to do more damage. We'll have to wait until at least mid-morning for the results to come through. " Steve said thoughtfully.

"Maybe I should stay at the hospital, just in case." Mike's hollow reply and a faraway look in his eyes worried his partner.

"I already made the arrangements. There'll be a police guard by her door all night and tomorrow too. Get some rest. She's in safe hands."

Sighing in defeat, Mike relented to Steve's suggestion and bade him goodnight.

* * *

_SFPD, Bureau of Inspectors, 850 Bryant Street, November 1__st, __1973_

The ride into the office early the next morning was one filled with silence and despondency. While Steve maintained a hopeful outlook, Mike's agitation from a restless night mingled with his concern for his daughter created a tension filled atmosphere between them.

Upon entering the bureau, Olson's voice called out to Mike. He left Steve's side and headed straight for the chief's office.

Mike took a seat in front of Olsen's desk. The door closed behind him.

"How are you doing, Mike?" Olsen asked in a neutral tone as he sat behind his desk with his hands clasped in front of him.

"I'll feel a lot better once I get those punks off the street." Mike instantly wished he had replied differently but the words tumbled out before he could stop them. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat under Olsen's scrutinizing gaze.

"Maybe you should take the rest of the day off. You look like hell," Olsen replied gently.

Mike shook his head. "I'm fine, really. I'll leave a little early and see Jeannie before I go home, if that's alright?"

"Sure, you just do what you need to do and spend some time with your daughter. I imagine she's pretty shaken up by the ordeal but I'm just glad she wasn't seriously hurt."

"Thanks." Mike started to rise from his seat when Olsen's voice held him in place.

"One other thing Mike: I'd rather you didn't get involved in this case. We've got some great guys in the department who are more than capable of handling it." Olsen hoped he had softened the blow by engaging in small talk first but the determined look in Mike's eyes told him the seasoned detective wasn't going to be fooled into backing away from case.

"Come on, Rudy, don't do this. Please don't ask me to stand aside. Not from this case. I'm telling you that I _am_ fine."

With a heavy sigh, Olsen gave Mike's words a moment's thought, weighing his options, before relenting, "Okay, okay. But I don't want you to work yourself to breaking point on this. I know Jeannie's your daughter and you can't get any closer than that, which is why I feel like I'm going against my better judgement by allowing you to pursue this. Besides, looking at this from a professional standard, you have other cases that are listed as priority one sitting on your desk so I want you to prioritise accordingly. Don't let your personal feelings…"

"Get in the way. Yeah, I know, Rudy. I wrote the book on that a long time ago," Mike finished Olsen's sentence for him and smiled wanly.

"Alright. Give my regards to Jeannie when you see her later," Olsen dismissed the seasoned detective and hoped he made the right decision by allowing Mike to work on a case he didn't feel he should be working on.

* * *

The morning gave way to the afternoon by the time Mike and Steve returned to the bureau from an interview with a witness to a gang-related homicide case. The phone on Steve's desk rang as Mike headed to his office.

Several minutes passed before Steve got off the phone and hurried to his partner's office. "Lab guys just called. They've confirmed the paint samples from under Jeannie's finger nails was a particular type and brand of cosmetic paint. I'll look up all the stores that stock the product"

"What about those prints on the door and the walls?"

Steve slowly shook his head in disappointment. "Some belonged to Jeannie, you or myself while others were inconclusive."

"Okay. Work on the list of stores that carry that particular paint and see if perhaps we can get some names of customers who purchased it. I'll start going through the books for previous offenders who may be potential suspects," Mike instructed.

"Got it." Steve wasted no time and went back to his desk to make a start on his list.

* * *

When the phone rang on Mike's desk, the Lieutenant snatched up the receiver and greeted the caller curtly.

"_Mike? It's me, Jeannie. If this is a bad time, I can call you back later…" _Jeannie's uncertain tone filtered through from the other line.

Mike's voice caught in his throat but he quickly recovered, "No, Sweetheart, it's not a bad time. In fact I've been thinking about you. How are you feeling?"

"_Better. Dr. Moore said I could go home as soon as tomorrow."_

"That's great, Sweetheart. I hope you weren't giving the good doctor any grief, now," Mike playfully admonished.

"_No, really, he said he'll think about it. Listen, I think my memory's coming back to me. I wanted to tell you there was something else I remembered about the guy that was holding on to me; the one with the Frankenstein outfit. He had a tattoo of a black bird of some kind on his arm. I've been trying to put together as much detail as I could in my mind but some of it's still fuzzy."_

"It's okay, Jeannie, you're doing great. Just don't push yourself. I know you went through quite an ordeal. If I send a police sketch artist over to the hospital can you give him enough details for him to draw an image of this tattoo you saw?"

"_I think so. I'll try."_

"Alright, I'll send him along shortly. Steve and I will drop by later on to see how you're doing."

"_That sounds great. I just can't wait to get out of here." _

"I know, Sweetheart, but you just listen to what the doctor says. I'll see you later." Mike ended the conversation but waited until he heard the dial tone on the other end first before he hung up. Rising from his chair, he strode over to his office door then called out, "Haseejian. Get me a sketch artist to go over to the hospital. Jeannie remembers a tattoo one of the guys had on his arm."

"On it," Norm Haseejian replied.

* * *

Perusing the third book of mug-shots, Mike almost spat coffee all over the desk as his eyes came to rest on a photo of a young man with a tattoo of a black eagle on his forearm. Placing his mug of coffee down on the desk harder than intended, Mike's bespectacled eyes read through the string of offenses the man had committed including the most recent being a home invasion and rape. Aged in his mid-twenties, he read that the felon, Harvey Milton Decklan, had only just been released on parole a couple of weeks ago and resided in the district, within walking distance of where Mike lived. _Got to be him! _Lifting the book from his desk, he walked out of his office and called out, "Steve, I think we got him!"

* * *

_Residence of Harvey Decklan_

The door to Harvey Decklan's run-down apartment opened slowly and was stopped by the sliding chain lock from opening any further.

"Who the hell are you? What do you want?" the young man behind the door demanded icily.

"Lieutenant Stone, SFPD and Inspector Keller. We're from homicide. Open up, Decklan!" Mike ordered.

"Hold on, let me unlock this will you?" Decklan's low response was followed by the door shutting then footsteps hurrying away from the front entrance.

"Steve! Fire-escape out back!" Mike's urgent outburst was unnecessary as Steve was already sprinting down the stairs. The Lieutenant kicked the door in, breaking the chain lock. With his hand resting on his holster, ready to draw his pistol if needs be, Mike rushed into the apartment and headed toward the opened window leading to a metal staircase. "Hold it!" He shouted at the retreating figure who looked up briefly then continued his flight.

The young Inspector reached the bottom of the metal steps where he caught sight of the ex-convict trying to make a quick getaway.

Decklan cursed out loud as another plain clothes detective came into view below him, cutting off his escape route. In a last ditch attempt to get away from the law, Decklan clambered over the rail and jumped the last few steps, landing several feet away from where the detective stood.

Nimble on his feet, Steve Keller dashed after the suspect. "Hold it!" Steve yelled as he ran through the alleyway after Decklan. A dead end up ahead stopped the parolee in his tracks momentarily until the young man tried to climb the rubbish disposal unit to get over the brick wall behind it. Steve lunged after the man, making a grab for his ankle to pull him back down but a boot connected sharply with his jaw and he fell back in a daze.

With his balance disrupted by the detective, Decklan slipped off the waste disposal lid and toppled onto the ground in a heap. Rough hands grabbed him by the shoulders and pinned him to the ground. Much to his chagrin he felt a knee dig into the small of his back as he tried to wriggle free then he felt himself being frisked.

"You're under arrest, Decklan! You have the right to remain silent…" the breathless Lieutenant read out the Miranda rights to the struggling figure beneath him and secured a pair of hand cuffs around the man's wrists. Dragging the arrested man to his feet, Mike slammed him against the disposal unit.

"Hey man, take it easy!" Decklan whined. "What are you after me for, huh? I ain't done nothin' since I got out of the joint!"

"And what about last night? You forced your way into a house and attacked a young girl!" Mike snapped, breathing heavily.

"Hey, that wasn't me! I didn't attack no girl! I was home all night! You can ask my parole officer," Decklan argued.

From out of the corner of his eye, Mike saw Steve slowly climb to his feet. "Are you alright, Steve?"

"Yeah, I'll live," Steve replied, rubbing his aching jaw. He moved to stand beside his partner, eyeing the panting young man cuffed in front of him.

"You guys are crazy! I ain't done nothin'!"

"Oh yeah? Then why are you running?" Steve questioned.

"Because you're a cop! Guys like me who did their time are always the first ones who gets picked on for every crime in this God forsaken city, because you're all too damned lazy to find yourselves _real _suspects!" Decklan retorted.

Steve shook his head, scoffing under his breath, "Yeah I wonder why that is."

"Alright, let's go!" Mike took hold of Decklan by the upper arm and together with Steve, the three men headed out of the alleyway toward the tan LTD parked nearby.


	4. ACT 2: Part 1

_**AN:** Once again, I'd like to thank all my readers for their_ _support :-) It means a lot to me. Hope you'll enjoy this slightly shorter update._**  
**

**_Special thanks goes to my beta for her encouragement and proof reading._**

* * *

**ACT II Part 1:**

_SFPD, Bureau of Inspectors, 850 Bryant Street_

Rocking the chair backward and forwards, Decklan avoided the Lieutenant's gaze and insisted on speaking to his lawyer.

"I'm going to ask you one more time and if I don't get an honest answer, I'll have you thrown in a cell! Where were you last night?" Mike grilled.

"I told you, man, I was with my parole officer, Officer Davidson! I'm not answering any more questions."

"Until my partner gets back with Officer Davidson, we're not done here! Have you ever seen this girl. Take a good look at her!" Mike snapped as he shoved a recent college photo of Jeannie in front of the young lout, hoping to see him react and forcing a confession out of him.

Rolling his eyes impatiently, Decklan took the picture from Mike's grasp and a smirk crossed his features. Looking up at the detective and locking eyes with him defiantly, he taunted, "Look, you want the truth, old man? With a cute mouth like that, she looks like the type of girl who would beg me to have my way with her but I…" Before Decklan could finish his lewd remark, he felt himself grabbed by the collar and thrown to the floor.

Breathing hard, Mike didn't even hear the door opening but he felt someone tugging him away from Decklan as he reached for the street-wise young man who was struggling to his feet.

"Mike! Hold it!" Steve pulled his partner away from the suspect and kept a firm hold of his shirt. "His story checks out. Davidson was with him until the early hours of the morning, playing cards!"

"What?" Mike shot back.

"I _said,_ his story checks out. He's not our man," Steve repeated breathlessly.

Mike's shoulders slumped, all the fight leaving him as he realized the implications of Steve's words. They had arrested the wrong man.

"You can go. Go on!" Olsen jerked his thumb toward the door.

Mike felt his world crashing down when Olsen's terse voice filled his ears and he knew what was to come.

Straightening himself up and brushing himself off, Harvey Decklan gave Mike one last reproachful look before strutting out of the office.

"My office, Mike. Now," Olsen ordered before he too left the cubicle.

Steve leaned his back against the desk and crossed his arms. He looked his partner in the eye and could see the guilt, shame and anger behind them. He opened his mouth but before he could say anything, Mike held up his hand and shut him down.

"Don't. Just don't."

The door of Mike's office slammed shut and Steve cursed aloud. Mike had crossed the line and he knew Rudy was going to have it out with him and there was not a damn thing he could do about it.

…..

It felt like the longest ten minutes of his life as Mike sat rigidly in front of the Captain's desk, trying hard to process every word that Olsen drilled into him.

"You're taking me off the case," Mike said matter-of-factly.

"It's for the best and you know it. I'm not beyond reasonable here, Mike. I've decided to allow Steve to continue with the case. He'll be working with Hartman on it," Olsen explained.

"Hartman? You're not just assigning him the case but you're giving him a new partner?" Mike questioned incredulously.

"It's only temporary. I want you to take a couple of days leave to cool off. That's an order," Olsen's tone left no room for argument but he steeled him for an attempt.

"I can't believe you're doing this! I really can't."

"If that kid has half a brain, he's within his rights to press charges against you for assault and sue the department for wrongful arrest and police brutality."

"And how about assaulting a police officer? Did you take a good look at that bruise on Steve's jaw? He got that from that punk when we arrested…"

"It was Steve's choice not to press charges!" Olsen's voice rode over the top of mike's argument cutting the Lieutenant off. "When he found out that Decklan had a solid alibi, he knew it was safer for you and the department to drop the incident completely. The problem is, you're taking this case way too personally and I don't like it. Back off and let Steve handle it."

Shaking his head in disgust, Mike got up from his seat and trudged out of the office. Over twenty years of experience told me that Rudy was right, and that most of the anger he was feeling was directed at himself but there was no way his bull-headedness was going to let him admit to that. He walked past Steve's desk, ignoring the disconcerted stares of his partner and Tanner and headed straight for his office.

"Steve," Olsen called out from the doorway of his office.

The young Inspector exchanged a nervous look with Tanner before leaving his desk and heading for Olsen's office.

…..

_Residence of Inspector Jeff Hartman,_

Juggling the football from hand to hand, Troy Hartman placed the ball on the counter top of the breakfast bar in the kitchen then reached for the telephone receiver. The phone had been ringing for some time and his first assumption was that his father was spending most of the night at the office again.

He greeted the caller but his eyes took on a darker shade when he recognized the caller's voice.

"_It's all over the news! What if the girl can describe us?"_

"And how will she do that, genius? She was out cold for starters! It was Halloween and we all wore costumes just like the rest of the kids in the neighbourhood!" Troy retorted angrily.

"_What if your dad got suspicious? He's a cop isn't he?"_

"My _dad!"_ Troy scoffed bitterly. "I'm surprised he still remembers I live here. He doesn't even know me! Relax, will you, Evans? No one's gonna know. Besides, nothing happened! Look I gotta go. I think dad's at the door." Troy hung up before Zach Evans could say anything else.

Troy met his father as he walked through their front door.

"Hey, how did training go? Sorry I missed it. I had to stay back at work again," Inspector Jeff Hartman said, as he reached out and ruffled his son's hair.

"Yeah, well, what's new, dad?" Troy replied sarcastically. He was used to the empty promises of a cop father.

"I'll make it up to you. Let's grab some burgers tonight and a couple of shakes. My treat. What do you say?"

The broad shouldered youth shrugged. "Whatever." _He just doesn't get it. _Not in the mood for another fight with his father, Troy kept his mouth shut and let his dad drone on about his work day as they locked up the house and headed out.


	5. ACT 2: Part 2

_**AN: Firstly, I hope my fellow readers and writers had a blessed, safe and fantastic Easter!**_

_**Next, I wanted to apologize for the delay in posting this update. I had a nasty bout of the stomach flu followed by preparations for the arrival of the Easter Bunny (LOL) so RL has once again got in the way of my online hobby. However, I had a great Easter with my wonderful family and I am slowly munching through my supply of chocolate eggs and bunnies from my fridge (I am so glad that my appetite got back to working order in time for Easter). I'm sure that was more than you needed to know ;-)**_

_**Thirdly, I have made an adjustment to the names of two key characters that were introduced in the previous chapter and will play an important role in this story. "Rick Morgen" is now "Troy Hartman" while his father "Jeff Morgen" is now "Jeff Hartman". To avoid confusion between my story and another writer's and out of respect for that writer (who is a great friend and whom I admire) and a huffy muse who refused to cooperate with those names, I decided to make these changes. **_

_**Lastly, thank you to ALL my readers who have been just absolute gems :-) And of course a BIG thank you goes to my beta.**_

_**Tanith  
**_

* * *

**ACT II Part 2:**

General Hospital, November 2nd, 1973

It felt oddly surreal to Mike Stone to be driving alone that morning to pick up his daughter from the hospital and take her home. Yesterday's Harvey Decklan incident re-played itself in his mind and while he knew Olsen was right in his decision to take him off the case, it didn't make him feel any more reconciliatory toward him. At least not right at that moment.

As he parked the car, Mike thought about his partner, or was it his former partner, Steve. The young man had phoned him early that morning to ask how he was doing. The question only caused Mike to take out his frustrations with his protégé and the call was ended abruptly. Sighing heavily, Mike promised himself that he would call Steve later on to apologize. The thought took away some of the tension he was feeling as he got out of the sedan and made his way through the front entrance of the hospital.

After speaking with Doctor Moore about Jeannie's condition, Mike sat down in the waiting room and waited for his daughter to get changed and sign the release forms. He was relieved to hear that Jeannie was showing signs of recovering from her ordeal.

"Mike? I'm all set," Jeannie's voice penetrated Mike's thoughts.

It took a moment for Mike to respond, as his mind drifted back to the present. "Let's get you home, Sweetheart." He wrapped an arm protectively around the slender girl's shoulders as they walked out of the hospital together. It wasn't until they were in the car that Jeannie asked where Steve was.

"Rudy felt I should take a couple of days off, you know, to spend some time with you and make sure you're really okay, while Steve takes care of things for me at the office." Mike knew it wasn't entirely true but he didn't feel it was an outright lie either. Maybe he just needed a day to cool off and see things from an objective point of view.

The rest of the drive was spent in small talk with no more mention of Steve or the office. Every now and then Jeannie would steal a glance at her father and she observed that he was under some strain but she wasn't sure that now was an ideal time to ask too many questions. A significant part of her was glad that he would be home to keep her company while a smaller part nagged at her that something was up with Mike.

* * *

_SFPD, Bureau of Inspectors, 850 Bryant Street_

Following Olsen's suggestion that he should take Mike's office for the time being, Steve sat with his head down, pouring over the notes that littered his partner's desk. Although he understood where the Captain was coming from, he found that he had mixed feelings about benching Mike completely for the next few days. On one hand, he felt Mike did need some time to cool off and reflect on his behavior but on the other hand, Steve knew Mike was quick to rebound back to his old self after a rough patch and to take something as important as this case away from him might do more harm than good in the long term. He also couldn't ignore the fact that this was hurting their friendship and it made him feel wretched. Early that morning, Olsen had introduced him to his new temporary partner, Jeff Hartman, and though Hartman seemed to be a likeable guy and displayed a professional outlook, Steve didn't feel they were quite on the same level when it came to discussing the cases that they would be working on together. By lunch time, Steve found he'd lost his patience and sent Hartman away to grab something to eat on his own. Alone, hungry, tired and miserable, Steve's eyes drifted to the telephone on Mike's desk and the photograph of Jeannie beside it. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed heavily. He wanted to pick up the phone and call Mike to see if he and Jeannie were up to having some lunch with him. Apart from wanting to see them on a personal level, there were some questions he needed to ask Jeannie about the attack as well as getting an official statement taken. He would rather do it over some coffee and ensure Jeannie was comfortable and relaxed. An inner struggle presented itself when he wondered how Mike would react about him questioning his daughter. Had they been still working on the case together he knew Mike would be fine but as it were, Steve's gut told him that this could prove to be an awkward situation. A knock on the door, however, disrupted his internal debate.

"Looks like you haven't moved an inch since I went out," Hartman commented conversationally.

"Yeah, I guess I didn't realize the time," Steve replied flatly.

"I just got back from the Captain's office. He said that if you don't take a break…"

"What? He'll send me home to do some knitting?" Steve scoffed then took a deep breath and continued in a lighter tone, "Look, I'm sorry, I'm just a little frustrated with some of the decisions that the Chief has been making lately."

"Right, like asking me to help you out?"

Steve didn't miss the taller man's resentful tone. "I didn't mean it that way," Steve said defensively, locking eyes with Hartman. "I think we got off on the wrong foot here. What do you say we start over and start working together?"

Hartman held his arms out then let them fall to his sides as he replied indifferently, "Sure, I'm fine with that, Keller."

Steve nodded then gestured for Hartman to take a seat. He then pulled out the file labelled, Jeannie Stone, from the top drawer of the desk.

Together they perused through the case file and discussed possible suspects and questions for the victim that still needed to be asked. Hartman studied the photographs from Mike's home, his daughter's injuries and finally a police sketch of a tattoo that the victim had described with great detail. The startling resemblance it bore to a tattoo he knew his son had, sent his mind reeling_. Not again! _Hartman's mind took him back to a year ago when a seventeen year old girl had accused his son of sexually assaulting her after a high school football game. She claimed her masked attacker had a tattoo just like the one his son had. The similarities were just as striking then as the one Jeannie described to the sketch artist. Though Troy vehemently denied he ever touched the girl, Hartman always carried the fear that his son was the prime suspect and like any parent who loved their child, he did everything he could to protect him. He dug deep into the victim's life and found faults that brought doubts to her credibility and testimony. The girl was popular with the boys in her previous school and her parents had tried desperately to hide her medical records that provided proof she had terminated a pregnancy six months prior to the alleged attack. She left her former high school to start over in another town leaving behind a story that a boy had tried to attack her. Hartman confronted her parents who admitted to the lie and the girl broke down, begging him to drop the case to protect her dignity.

"What is it? Did you see something that I've missed?" Steve asked after noticing Hartman was studying the sketch of the tattoo for a considerably long moment.

"No, I just remembered a guy I had locked up some time ago had a similar looking tattoo but he died in prison. Sorry, my mind must've taken a trip down memory lane for a minute there," Hartman brushed aside Steve's comment then ensured the sketch was buried underneath the rest of the paperwork as he piled them on the desk.

* * *

It was getting late in the afternoon and Steve knew he couldn't delay paying Jeannie a visit any longer. To add to his already sullen mood, was the realization that he would have to take Hartman with him since they were now partners and he couldn't very well tell the older Inspector to stay behind.

As Steve and Hartman left Mike's office and gathered their coats, Olsen intercepted them bearing urgent news. Steve was requested at the DA's office which would mean his plan was dashed. Cursing under his breath, the young detective failed to hide his frustration from surfacing.

"Keller, why don't I go over to Stone's house and get that statement from his daughter? It's not something that would require the two of us to do," Hartman suggested. _Maybe Miss Stone made a mistake about the tattoo. Perhaps she has some dirty secrets hidden away that she doesn't want anybody else to find out about. _Hartman realized he was relishing the opportunity to speak with the victim without any interruptions from Steve. He knew that Mike was Steve's partner and it would be all too natural for the younger Inspector to go lenient with the questions instead of being objective. With the Lieutenant officially off duty, and his partner out of the way, he hoped to dig deep into the life of Jeannie Stone and bring to the surface anything that could have the potential to discredit her accounts of what transpired that Halloween night.

Before Steve could reply, Olsen jumped ahead of him and responded, "Agreed. Go ahead Hartman."

Ordinarily Steve respected the Captain but right at that moment, he could think of less favorable things to say about him.


	6. ACT 3: Part 1

_**AN: To all of my awesome readers: thank you for all your support and encouragement in this fandom, not just for this particular story but for all the others I've posted. It's always a pleasure posting my work here. **_

_**To my fellow writer/reader "Mounty Swiss" : Hope you feel better soon :-)**_

_**Merci beaucoup to my dedicated beta who has just been fantastic.  
**_

_**Enjoy :-)**_

_**Tanith**_

* * *

**ACT 3 Part 1**

_Residence of Mike Stone_

A late lunch at the Stone residence was prepared by the Lieutenant who insisted that his daughter remain rested after her release from the hospital. The two of them sat at the dining table engaged in conversation, most of which revolved around Jeannie's studies. Mike was torn between seeking more information from Jeannie about the night she was attacked and allowing her time to open up on her own. After cleaning the dishes, Mike found Jeannie had dozed off on the sofa. He recalled she had mentioned she was feeling a little drowsy from the pain killers she took for her headache. With a warm smile, Mike draped a light blanket over her sleeping form and decided to take a nap himself. Leaning forward, he gave Jeannie a kiss on her forehead then retired to his room.

* * *

A knock on the door woke Jeannie from her troubled slumber on the sofa. She slowly opened her eyes. A second round of knocking, louder than the first, jolted her to a sitting position and images of the masked attacker on her doorstep came back. _Get a grip!_ Shaking her head to clear it, Jeannie pushed the blanket aside then swung her legs off the sofa. "Coming!" She called out. _Maybe it's Steve. _She marvelled at how this thought somehow chased away all the frightening images and made her feel safe. She peered through the curtains and saw to her confusion and slight disappointment that her visitor was not Steve. The man standing on her doorstep was a little younger than her father and dressed in a navy blue suit. His dark brown hair was neatly combed back and he carried an intense look in his eyes. Suspecting the stranger was someone from the San Francisco Police Department, Jeannie unlocked the door and opened it a fraction of an inch, all the while holding onto the edge in case she read the man wrongly.

"Jeannie Stone?" The man inquired as he pulled out his badge case. "Inspector Jeff Hartman. I need to ask you some questions about an assault that took place here a couple of nights ago."

"Please, come in," Jeannie replied, welcoming the Inspector into the house. She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Nice place you have here," Hartman commented as he took in his surroundings. "Do you stay with your father often?"

"Usually when I'm on school break I come down to keep him company. Can I get you some coffee?" Jeannie led Hartman to the living room and gestured for him to take a seat.

"No thank you, but feel free to make yourself one."

* * *

Rubbing the back of his neck to relieve the stiffness, Mike trudged down the stairs toward the sound of voices coming from the living room. _Doesn't sound like Steve_. He made a mental note as he listened in on the voices though he couldn't quite make out the words.

* * *

While Jeannie sat on the edge of the sofa cupping her mug of coffee, Inspector Hartman was perched on the recliner with his notebook opened and a pen in his hand. Every now and then he would jot down notes as Jeannie answered his questions to the best of her ability. Although the actual attack was nothing more than a vague memory, she found that images of the perpetrators were growing in clarity or at least details of their costumes became more vivid.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Jeannie looked up and saw her father standing at the entrance of the hallway. "No, of course not. This is Inspector Hartman. He's taking down my statement."

"Please call me Jeff. You must be Mike." Hartman stood up and shook Mike's hand.

"Got it in one."

"Steve meant to come with me but something urgent came up," Hartman explained.

Mike simply nodded and was saved from an awkward moment of piggy-in-the-middle when the telephone rang. Excusing himself, Mike left his daughter with the Inspector to answer the phone.

"Now, where were we?" Hartman asked rhetorically as he scanned through his notes then sat down once more. "You mentioned in your most recent report that one of the men had a tattoo?"

"Yes, the one who jumped out and grabbed me."

"Can you describe it again."

"It was a bird. A black crow on the inner part of his arm."

Hartman stopped writing notes and became somewhat fixated with the notebook. He knew his son, Troy had a tattoo that matched the one described and what was even more damning was the fact that it was positioned in the exact same part of his arm as Jeannie Stone's attacker.

"Inspector?" Jeannie said tentatively when an uncomfortable silence grew between them.

"Do you have a boyfriend, Miss. Stone?"

The sudden cold tone in the Inspector's voice made Jeannie feel nervous. "No."

"You mean to tell me that a good looking girl like yourself is not out looking for a date on her college break?" Jeff scoffed, finally looking into Jeannie's face.

"No, I…I don't know what you're trying to say but I'm not that type of girl," Jeannie replied quietly, hoping the Inspector would alter his line of questioning.

"I'm not trying to say anything. I'm just trying to find the truth. Frankly, I think you're hiding something. Something that maybe you don't want your father to know about. Do you have friends in San Francisco?"

Shocked at the how the interview was now becoming an interrogation but not knowing what to do, Jeannie proceeded to answer in a steady voice, "Yes. Karen Hayes and Susan Mason."

"When did you last see them?"

"A week ago. We went out to see a game of football. Karen's boyfriend was playing that night and she asked me to come along. Inspector, what does this have to do with what happened to me?"

"What did you do after the game?" Hartman pressed.

"We went out to dinner to celebrate with a couple of the guys. Then we went home. But I don't see how…"

Hartman cut Jeannie off and continued, "Did you drink?"

"A glass of Champagne."

"And you went straight home after dinner?"

"Yes, I told you that already!" Jeannie's agitation began to surface and while she felt ashamed for behaving like she had done something wrong, she was becoming increasingly uncomfortable being treated like she was the criminal instead of the victim.

"I see. Do you make it a habit going out with football players, Jeannie?"

"What are you talking about?" Jeannie gasped. She shot to her feet and crossed her arms tightly. "Look I went out with my friends who happen to be a girl and some guys who plays football but that doesn't mean it was more than just an innocent dinner. I don't see how this has anything to do with the investigation!"

"I'm not implying that anything happened between you and those guys you went out with so please, just calm down, young lady. But you've got to understand that there are a lot of girls your age and younger that think a good night out with the guys might not send the wrong signals, especially when it's late and drinks are involved. Those guys might think that it's okay to return these signals later on and that's when the trouble starts. Shall we continue?" Jeff motioned for Jeannie to return to her seat. A part of him felt sorry for what he was doing but a larger part of himself felt he needed to do whatever it took to protect his son, even if it meant discrediting the victim. To him, Troy had more to lose than Jeannie did and kids were just kids. It was Halloween and Troy was probably drunk or playing a stupid prank that ended badly. _But did he deserve to go to jail? _

"No, I have nothing more to say. Can you just please leave," Jeannie said in a small voice. She felt the heat rising to her face and the last thing she wanted was for her father to walk in and ask questions. He didn't need the added stress. She knew what had happened was already playing heavily on his mind.

"Alright, I think I have all that I need for now. I hope you do realize that it's my job to ask these types of questions, no matter how awkward they may be. It would be no different if your father or Steve were the ones who asked them," Hartman got to his feet and walked toward the front door.

Jeannie answered him with a cold look then followed him to the door.

"If you remember anything else, here's my number," Hartman handed Jeannie his card then left the Stone residence.

Closing the door behind the Inspector, Jeannie leaned her back against it and closed her eyes.

"Sweetheart, is everything okay? Where did Hartman go?" Mike called out from the hallway.

Swallowing back the tears, Jeannie took a deep breath then opened her eyes. "I'm fine. I'm just tired. Hartman said he got what he needed. Who was that on the phone?"

"That was Haseejian. He had a few important things to discuss about a case we were working on. Are you sure you're alright?" Mike crossed the space between him and Jeannie in a few strides and gently took her by the shoulders.

Jeannie refused to look into her father's eyes because she knew he would catch her lie and settled for leaning her head against his chest as he drew her into his arms and held her. Her mind was filled with so many confused thoughts and she had no idea what to do with them. While she knew in her heart that she was not at all like the image he drew of her, she couldn't help but feel embarrassed and hurt by his words. _How do I tell Mike? Do I tell him?_


	7. ACT 3: Part 2

_**AN: Merci beau coup to my beta. **_

_**This chapter is dedicated to all my readers...The moment you have been waiting for...drum roll...**_

_**Tanith  
**_

* * *

**ACT 3 Part 2**

_SFPD, Bureau of Inspectors, 850 Bryant Street_

Tossing his loose change into the can, Steve then poured himself a mug of percolated black coffee then walked over to his desk which Hartman had temporarily occupied. Jeannie's file sat opened on the desk and a pen rested on the page that Hartman had obviously been working on completing. Steve set the coffee down on the desk and lifted the pages from the manila folder. His eyes scanned through the first page and he quickly realized it was a statement taken by Hartman that afternoon. As he read through the documented account of Jeannie's attack and the comments that Hartman had added, Steve felt anger surging through him. The more he read, the harder it became to resist the urge to tear up the pages. A tap on the shoulder caused him to wheel around in one sudden movement catching Lessing by surprise.

"Hey, what's got you so wired up?" Lee held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Where's Hartman?" Steve ignored Lessing's comment, as he stood clutching the pages in one hand so tightly that the corners were crumpling up.

"He's been waiting for you in there," Lessing replied, inclining his head toward Mike's office. A confused look passed over his features as Steve thanked him in a low voice then walked briskly toward the cubicle.

* * *

Hartman paced the small room deep in thought. He began to mentally check off the list of things he needed to do when he got home. The first thing would be to get the truth out of his son once and for all. Then they would have to work out an alibi together and get rid of any physical evidence at the house that could point the investigation to Troy. His thoughts were disrupted when the door burst open and an agitated Steve Keller entered.

"What the hell is this?" Steve held up the pages in Hartman's face. His green eyes flashed dangerously.

"That's the statement I got off the Stone girl. What's your problem?" Hartman scoffed, looking rather taken aback by Keller's outburst.

"You know damn well what my problem is! You were out of line interrogating Jeannie Stone. What were you thinking, Hartman?"

"Oh come on, Keller! You've been in this outfit long enough to know that not everything is black and white. There are shades of grey everywhere you turn," Hartman snapped, the heat rising in his voice.

"Jeannie is not the type of girl you are making her out to be."

"Oh yeah? Just how well do you think you know her?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Steve demanded heatedly as he took a step closer to the smirking detective.

Hartman shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "I'm just saying that maybe Jeannie isn't as pure and innocent as you think." In a more serious tone he added, "Now you can take that anyway you like it but I'm just doing my job here and if you have a problem with that I suggest you take it up with the Captain. Frankly I think Mike wasn't the only one too involved with the case." With his last words, the Inspector brushed past Steve then walked out of the office amid curious glances.

* * *

Steve reached up and rubbed the back of his neck then loosened his tie. He could hear his colleagues talking with one another and feel their eyes burning a hole in his back.

"_Hey, Lessing. Tell me, does Keller have the hots for this Stone girl or something?" _

Hartman's comment was the last straw for Steve. He threw the file on the desk, wheeled around and stormed out of Mike's office. He ignored Tanner and Haseejian who tried to draw his attention, and headed straight for the dark haired detective. Grasping Hartman by the shoulder he spun him around then drew back his fist and shot it forward straight into the man's face.

Taken by surprise Jeff Hartman lost his balance when the blow landed and he fell back against the desk, knocking down several items onto the floor. His hand instinctively reached up to his mouth.

Tanner and Haseejian were at Steve's side in an instant, ready to hold their colleague back if need be.

Breathing hard, Steve stood bracing himself for Hartman's retaliation.

Straightening up, Hartman wiped the blood from his mouth and turned to face Steve. A dry laugh escaped his lips before a flicker of anger shone in his dark eyes and he lunged forward to make a grab for the younger Inspector.

Steve almost welcomed the movement as he acted upon it and raised his fists, preparing himself to exchange blows.

With the electrifying tension intensifying tenfold, Tanner, Lessing and Haseejian anticipated the fight escalating. They quickly gripped their colleague's arms and shirt, holding him back while Lessing placed himself in front of Hartman and planted a hand firmly against his chest, pushing him away.

"Cool it, Steve!" Tanner barked.

"You're a real piece of work!" Steve shouted, dismissing Tanner and jabbing his finger at Hartman.

"And you're a sick cop lusting over anyone in a skirt! I've heard all about your rep Keller. It's no wonder you can't handle a case without Stone to keep you inline!" Hartman shot back.

"Back-off Hartman!" Lessing warned, twisting Hartman's shirt in his hand and giving him a hard shove.

"Why you son of a –" Steve renewed his launch and almost broke free from Tanner and Haseejian's restraining hold.

"Does he know you're playing a love sick puppy after his daughter?" Hartman taunted.

Lessing drew the Inspector close to his face then shouted, "I _said_ that's enough!" With a look that carried a threat of its own, the African-American detective gave Hartman one last shove then released his hold on him.

Hartman stumbled backward, still breathing heavily but losing his drive to fight off four men who glared at him warningly.

Steve's energy was almost spent from his struggles and seeing that Hartman was backing away, he slowly allowed his muscles to uncoil.

The sound of people releasing their breath filled the room as the friction dissipated when Hartman turned and flounced out of the bureau.

Steve shrugged away from the hands that were still restraining him.

"You okay, Steve?" Tanner asked in a steady voice.

"Yeah, I'm okay," Steve muttered.

"You sure?" Haseejian repeated.

"I said I'm alright," Steve replied with a hint of exasperation in his tone. He drew a deep breath and looked at the ground, avoiding everyone's questioning glances. Needing something to do he crouched down and started gathering the strewn paperwork from the floor when something caught his eye. His fingers closed around the edge of a photo frame that lay face down on the ground. He flipped the object around, shook the shattered pieces of glass out then rose to his feet, all the while studying the picture staring back at him from within the frame. Something about the photograph of a youth in a football jersey holding up a trophy caught Steve's attention. Upon closer inspection, he could clearly see a tattoo of a black bird on the inside of the youth's right arm. The same tattoo he had seen on the sketch that was drawn according to Jeannie's descriptions.

"What is it, Steve?" Tanner inquired, worriedly.

"Is this Hartman's kid?" Steve asked bluntly.

"Yeah. He's a college football star from what I've heard," Tanner replied.

"He plays for the Crows," Steve mused aloud.

"Yeah, have you seen him play? He's real good on the field."

"No, but I think I know who has." Steve placed the frame and the papers he picked up from the floor on the desk then hurried out of the bureau, calling out behind him that he needed to get some air.


	8. ACT 4: Part 1

**_AN: As promised, this update is for you - my readers. Not sure when the next update will be but hopefully it won't be as long a wait as it was between the previous chapter to this one._**

_**Regarding Steve striking a fellow officer in my previous chapter, while that was a fun scene to write, I hope it didn't come across as too AU or over-the-top. **_

_**Thanks for all your support and your feedback :-)  
**_

_**Many thanks also goes to my beta!  
**_

_**Tanith**_

* * *

**ACT 4 Part 1:**

_University on Mission Street, SF_

Waiting outside the locker room of the local college, Steve stood admiring the trophies encased in the glass cabinet along the wall. As his eyes roamed over the collection, he noticed the framed photographs from the wall behind him were reflected off the glass. He turned around and crossed the floor to get a closer look at them. Below each photo he read the names listed in print. One name stood out above all the rest. Troy Hartman. Moving his eyes further across, Steve found a photo of Troy and Zachary Evans looking like they were celebrating a victory. Troy had an arm draped around Zach's shoulders and the two of them looked like they could be friends off the field. Steve's attention was diverted to the locker room door when it swung open and a group of college boys filed out, boisterously. He approached the group, flipped open his badge case and identified himself. "I'm looking for Troy Hartman. I was told by his coach that he'd be here."

The boys all looked at each other before the tallest replied, "He took off early, probably to be with some chick. What's this about, Inspector?"

"I just needed to ask him a few questions in relation to a case I'm working on. Do you know where I can find him? You know, where he usually hangs out?" Steve continued to question the youth in a casual manner.

The young man shook his head. "No, but you could ask Evans."

"Who?"

"Zach Evans. They're pretty tight and hang out quite a bit."

"Thanks…"

"Austin. Kyle Austin."

"Thank you Austin. You've been a big help," Steve thanked Austin then over the youth's shoulder he saw the door swing open once again and a familiar looking young man stepped out. He stopped, looked at Steve then tried to avoid him by walking the other way. "Zach?" Steve called out as he walked around Austin and his entourage.

Panic started to grip Zach Evans when for a brief moment his eyes locked on the cop's. He turned on his heel and quickened his pace then he rounded the corner and took off at a run.

Steve knew the instant their eyes met what the youth was going to do. He'd seen in too many times. He followed Evans and when he turned the corner, he saw him running down the hall toward the exit. Steve sprinted after the college student. "Police! Hold it!" He yelled out.

Evans ignored the cop and kept running. _He knows! I am not going to jail!_

Slamming through the double doors, Evans ran out of the building and across the campus toward parking lot with the detective hot on his heels.

Steve pushed himself harder and called out to the young man once more but found he was forced to pursue him.

Evans didn't slow down as his car came into view. He dug into his jeans pocket and pulled out his keys. He knew he only had seconds to open the car door, start up the ignition and hit the road before the cop chasing him would try to stop him. In his haste and nervous state, he skidded to a halt, almost crashing into the car door then fumbled to insert the right key into the lock.

_Got ya._ Steve was confident he'd reach Zach before the kid made a getaway. His judgement told him he was close enough to make a grab and he acted on it.

Evans felt himself pushed up against the car as strong hands grabbed the loose folds of his letter jacket from behind and held him firmly in place. He cursed and struggled but the cop held fast.

"Easy, just take it easy! I just need to ask you a few questions," Steve told the college student breathlessly.

Evans' continued to struggle and managed to twist himself free from the detective.

Although Steve had lost his hold on the young man's jacket, he predicted Zach's next move and was ready for it. Sure enough, the youth took a wild swing aimed at his face. Steve ducked easily, allowed Evans' momentum to do all the work, then grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. He swung the uncooperative person of interest up against the car once more then secured a pair of hand cuffs around his wrists before turning him around to face him. "Zach Evans, you're under arrest!"

"I didn't do anything!" Evans protested.

"Oh yeah? Then why were you running?" Steve countered.

Zach turned his head away and kept silent.

"Alright, I'll tell you what: I won't lay assault charges if you tell me where I can find your friend, Troy Hartman," Steve bargained.

Evans shrugged, avoiding eye contact with the detective. "Look, I don't keep tabs on him!"

"Maybe you'll recall where your buddy is back at the station," Steve said sternly as he gripped Evans' upper arm and led him to his car.

…..

_SFPD, Bureau of Inspectors, 850 Bryant Street_

As he poured some coffee into a mug, Steve rubbed the back of his neck in frustration and from the tension that filled his day. A tap on the shoulder caused him to wheel around, spilling coffee on his shirt.

"Hard day? Wanna talk about it?" Mike asked his jumpy partner sympathetically.

Steve felt himself relax at first but then he remembered hat Mike had been avoiding him since Olsen took him off the case, and his relief turned to annoyance. "So now you're talking to me?"

"Okay, I deserved that. I'm sorry I acted like a jerk. Rudy was right to take me off the case," Mike admitted with a degree of difficulty as his pride gave way to humility. He could see that Steve was tightly wound up and clearly upset over something. "You know, drowning yourself in that stuff won't help you." Wrinkling his nose at the coffee stain on Steve's shirt, Mike allowed a small smile to cross his face.

Steve exhaled heavily and wiped his shirt with some napkins.

Mike noticed the discoloration of Steve's knuckles on his hand as the young man unsuccessfully tried to remove the stains. "What happened to your hand?"

Steve stopped, threw the soggy napkins in the waste paper basket and tried to brush off Mike's question. "Nothing. I don't want to talk about it." He started to walk to his desk but Mike gently held him by his upper arm and willed Steve to look into his eyes.

"I heard about Hartman. Jeannie told me. She's with IA right now." Mike decided the time to stall was over.

Steve finally looked up into Mike's eyes and found himself unable to stay annoyed at Mike any longer. "Jeannie must've been pretty upset."

"You could say that. By the time she finished telling me about Hartman she was making threats on how her new frying pan was going to find the slime-ball's face." Mike paused for effect before adding with a wink, "you beat her to it."

Steve gave a small chuckle and imagined Jeannie chasing Hartman with a frying pan. The thought brought a smirk to form on his face and his spirits lifted a little. "I know I shouldn't have hit him. That was a pretty stupid thing to do."

"We all make mistakes. The trick is to learn from them." Mike placed his hand on Steve's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. "I need to see Rudy about happened between Hartman and Jeannie. I heard you brought someone in?"

"Yeah," Steve replied, running his hand through his wavy hair. "He's in for questioning. I just needed a moment to cool off. It's been a long day."

Mike nodded. "I know, buddy boy, I know." He watched Steve head toward his desk to pick up a file then disappear into one of the interview rooms. Although he disapproved of Steve hitting another fellow officer, he was proud of the way Steve acknowledged he had acted inappropriately and recklessly. It was just another quality he liked about the younger detective. _I'll make a Lieutenant out of you one day, buddy boy. _


End file.
